Lemonade
by bundysbaby
Summary: It's the drink of choice for those awkward moments in life.


**Sleepyside, NY….**

The crowd in the village church grew restive as the minutes ticked by. The wedding, slated to begin over an hour ago, still hadn't started.

"I've heard of brides being late, but this is ridiculous," Oscar Lytell, proprietor of the general store out on rural Glen Road – and a friend of the bride's family – complained to the woman next to him.

Sarah Vanderpoel almost rolled her eyes, right there in God's house. "I'm sure it will be starting soon, Oscar. Fashionably late."

Oscar placed his rough hands on his knees and grunted. His butt began to ache from the hard pew and prolonged sitting.

This was not an auspicious start to the new life the bride and groom were beginning.

xxxxx

Helen Belden, in the antechamber designated for last-minute touch-ups to the bride before that all-important walk down the aisle, hissed under her breath to her husband. "Where is Tad? I just saw Spider out in the vestibule. He thought Tad caught an Uber here."

Peter glanced over at his daughter, resplendent in her long white gown. "I swear I'll kill him, Helen, if he doesn't show up." And he meant it, too. The groomsmen were waiting in the opposite antechamber, all shrugging their shoulders and wondering what became of the groom.

xxxxx

Trixie Belden, bride, stared into the old cheval-style mirror flanked by her two best friends and bridesmaids. Her startling blue eyes didn't register the ladies' flower-like appearance. If one peered into her mind, Trixie's brain didn't see the charming reflection at all.

Her best friend, maid-of-honor and sister-in-law, Honey Wheeler Belden, was to her left. Honey wore a bronze bias-cut gown with tiny spaghetti straps. It was well-suited to her tall, sylphlike body plus the color brought out the highlights in her honey-gold hair and hazel eyes. Said eyes were clouded with worry as they met a similar concern in the other woman making up the trio.

Diana Lynch Belden wore a frown, her beautiful violet eyes narrow with concern. She, another tall beauty, dressed in a lavender gown like Honey's. At least we can wear these gowns to other functions. Aghast at her disloyal thought, she brought a hand up to her mouth and shook her head.

Trixie did not see any of the unspoken communication. Contrary to everyone's consternation, relief was flooding over her. _Maybe he won't show up after all. That will save me from answering no when Reverend Bukowski asks me if I want to take this man._

Trixie's white color was the only thing differentiating her from the other two women. Well, that and her petite frame and natural, curly blondeness. Her mother glanced over at the trio again, thinking they looked like a colorful Trixie sandwich.

A knock at the door and everyone's heads turned. Bobby Belden, Trixie's youngest brother, uncomfortable in his tux, had a creased envelope in his hand and a look of confusion on his face as he entered.

"Trix, Mikey Smythe just handed me this envelope to give to you. He rode up on his bike, didn't say anything except this is for your sister and rode away." Trixie didn't take the envelope right away, not until he nudged her.

"Oh! Thanks, Bobby." She recognized the writing. Why wouldn't she? It was familiar to her since grade school.

Trixie, flashing a weak smile, moved away from the mirror to a corner of the room as the small audience held their collective breath. The outside noises shut down as one sheet of paper unfurled.

_Dear Trix _[it read],

_I know this is going to be hard, and I know I am a coward for not facing you in church or talking to you earlier._

_I'm not going to be there today. There, I said it!_

_I love you, I do. Maybe you won't believe me. I love you, but not the way a man loves a woman. I love you like a good friend. I hope you'll forgive me. I thought I could make this work. But I can't._

_I know you've been frustrated with our lovemaking or lack thereof. I know you think it's because I am so honorable that I didn't feel right engaging in premarital relations the few times we did. It's not that at all._

_I'm gay._

_There. Another thing I finally admitted. I thought I could 'fix' myself with you. I thought I could be normal. But I've met someone, a man, and he makes me feel whole. He helped me to see there's nothing to fix, that I am one of God's creatures, and I am normal._

_So… I'm sorry. I'm sorry I used you, and I'm sorry you're there all alone. Maybe someday we can meet face-to-face, and we can be friends again._

_Tad_

The letter fluttered as Trixie dropped it, her eyes filling with tears, making them drowned sapphires. As Honey retrieved the missive from the floor, the most intense relief flooded through Trixie's entire being.

_I am free._

xxxxx

**Rochester, New York…**

"When are you going to break up with him, Dot?" The dark, handsome man shrugged into his shirt. The motel room just one like so many others. Same nondescript, bland wall art, furnishings, and rug.

Dorothy Murray, the pretty woman in the rumpled bed, smiled. "I'm seeing him later, Ned." Her long blonde hair, tangled because of their vigorous exercises, drooped forward.

"So, tonight?" Ned pressed. He tired of this game. He wanted her back home in Happy Valley, Iowa, for good. A real estate job at his company and a ring secreted in a vault awaited her return.

"Tonight. It was fun. Jim Frayne is _quite_ the lover," she teased her current one.

Ned refused to take the bait. "If he's so good, then why hook up with me?"

Dot smiled, slid out of bed, and entwined her naked form around him. "Because you're better."

Ned's shirt dropped back on the ground.

xxxxx

Later that same evening, James Winthrop Frayne II met his girlfriend in town. They were meeting at The Revelry, one of the better establishments. Before he left his parents' house, he patted his breast pocket. Yeah, the tickets and reservations are right in there. Dot will be thrilled.

Another little secret resided in a velvet box at home. His grandmother's engagement ring. It wasn't an enormous diamond, just a classic round stone in yellow gold. Jim planned on taking it to St. Martin with him, getting down on one knee in the white sand, and popping the question.

As he slid into the car seat and thought about it – how he would ask her, what her reaction would be, should he have it filmed for posterity – he began to sweat.

There wasn't a heady feeling of anticipation. His intestines knotted up as his large hands gripped the steering wheel. Sure, Dot is intelligent and pretty. But there was a little alarm going off in his gut regarding her actions of the past week.

It appears that she was busy all week. She'd been working a lot this past year, continually flying home to Iowa. Her parents were getting up there in age, needing her assistance. She whispered it as she twined around him, making him forget the question or the answer.

An inner monologue began as he drove to the restaurant. And the gist of it was that he didn't trust her.

Not one bit.

Was this any way to begin a marriage?

xxxxxx

**Sleepyside, New York…**

Honey read the letter, one hand going over her mouth as it bowed into a surprised O. She passed it to Diana, who then passed it to her husband Mart, then to Brian, Honey's husband and the oldest Belden offspring. In a few moments, it traveled the room, eliciting gasps and barely concealed anger from the friends and family in the room.

Helen rushed over to her daughter, enfolding her in a motherly embrace. "Oh, Trixie, baby, I'm so sorry. That Tad! How could he…" her voice trailed off. No need to rehash the situation out loud.

"That's it. Absolutely it," Peter growled. "Tad Webster is dead meat." He imagined a satisfying six-foot-deep hole in the wildest part of Matthew Wheeler's nature sanctuary that engulfed thousands of acres off Glen Road.

"Don't, Daddy." Trixie's voice was quiet but firm. It sounded rusty to her ears as if she hadn't spoken aloud for a long time. Everyone turned to stare at her. "It's okay."

Peter exploded. "It's not okay, Princess. He should have had the… the cojones to tell you before now." Peter, a gentle man, spit fire through his ground-out words and the rage burning in his brown eyes.

"It _is_ okay, Daddy. All of you. It's better this way. I would rather be left at the altar than to live a lie. What if we had a family somewhere down the line and then Tad made… made his choice? At least only I am involved here."

"Princess," Peter began, ready to argue his point even though his daughter didn't shriek, hysterically sob, or otherwise have a meltdown.

"I need to go out there and tell everyone," Trixie announced.

"I'll do it for you." Brian would do anything to spare his sister the pain of telling friends and family.

"No, Bri. It's up to me. It's my wedding." Trixie flicked her hand in the air, brushing off his immediate rebuttal.

She closed her eyes for a moment, pressed her lips together, and drew on her substantial reservoir of courage as she opened the antechamber door and stepped out into the vestibule.

xxxxx

**Rochester, New York…**

Jim pulled into the parking lot at the restaurant. From the looks of it, the place was mobbed. He congratulated himself on making the reservation weeks in advance. He scanned the lot for Dot's little Mini-Cooper but was disappointed not to see it.

Then again, it was hard to spot!

He slid out of the driver's seat, giving a scant glance to a tall man leaning against an Escalade.

"Excuse me, are you Jim Frayne?" The man had straightened, his pleasant Midwest accent reminding Jim of Dot.

"Yes, I am. Who are you?" Although Jim didn't feel threatened, he still went on high alert.

There are a lot of crazy people out there.

The man stepped closer, and Jim could see his face. He wasn't as tall as Jim, but he was good-looking. And frowning. Really frowning.

"Ah, yes. I know you, but you don't know me. Ned Schultz." The man paused, not offering his hand. "From Happy Valley, Iowa,"

"That's where my girlfriend, Dot, is from. Are you a relative of hers?" Jim asked the question, but his gut told him otherwise.

Ned snorted. "No, I'm her high-school sweetheart and the reason why she's been flying home. The reason why she's been so busy this past week. I just wanted you to know. Dot is… Dot. Not a bad person. She just wanted to have her flings. She'll settle back down with me. I suppose she doesn't want to hurt your feelings."

Jim felt a tiny stabbing pinprick in the region of his heart. It wasn't soul-destroying. It wasn't a blast of grief or sadness.

It was, well, freeing. And the smallest hit to his ego.

"Thanks for the information. Is she inside?"

"Yeah, waiting to break up with you. She doesn't know I'm here. I thought I could save you all the drama. You know Dot." Ned rolled his eyes. "Loves the drama. Probably gonna pick a fight, throw a drink in your face, and storm out."

Jim titled his head to one side and eyed the other man with no small amount of curiosity. "And you're willing to live with all this?"

"Sure. She had to get it out of her system." Ned shrugged. "She'll end up being the president of the PTA when we have our 2.5 kids. I'm doing rather well. I can give her everything she wants."

_And so can I_. Jim didn't voice the thought. No need for Dot to find out he was wealthy now. The Fraynes kept it low key.

Not many people suspected they were the second most wealthy private corporation in the United States. Only Matt Wheeler's wealth eclipsed theirs, and Edward Lynch's was running a close third.

The family lived a modest lifestyle. Great-uncle James had that Victorian mansion in that little town downstate, but they were all frugal to a fault.

"I think I'll save her the angst of the big breakup scene," Jim grinned. It would do his ego good to deflate her sails. "Thanks, man. You two can have my reservation."

Ned stuck out a hand and grinned back. _Well, Dot's little fling didn't take the reveal terribly. Wonder if he was involved as she led me to believe_. His rival was handsome, with auburn-red hair, startling green eyes, and there were obvious muscles under that designer suit jacket.

They shook, and Ned took off for the restaurant, leaving Jim to ponder his next move.

xxxxx

**Sleepyside, New York…**

Trixie was brought up short by Spider Webster, loitering in the vestibule. "Trixie. I'm so sorry." He waved a similar letter in his hand. "I had no inkling."

"I didn't think you did. I'm just sorry Tad felt he had to live a lie."

"If you want, I can go in there," the big cop nodded to the congregation, "And make the announcement they can all go home."

Trixie hugged him. "No, it's my story to tell. I'm not going to out Tad. That's his story to tell. And why send everyone home? We have a party planned with lots of delicious food, a great DJ, and a fabulous venue. You can run ahead and tell them to pull down the Tad and Trixie banners."

"Thanks. Thanks for that. Will do." As he was about to vanish through the double doors leading to the street, Trixie tugged on his arm.

"Give this back to Tad when you see him." She tugged on the opal ring that adorned her third finger, left hand and dropped it into Spider's palm.

He wrapped his long fingers about it, still warm from her skin, nodded, and left.

Trixie took a deep breath, squared her shoulders, and strode through the doors into the nave.

xxxxxxx

**Rochester, New York…**

Jim remained in his car for a few minutes, pondering the situation. Ten minutes ago, he was ready to surprise Dot with tickets to St, Martin and once there, propose.

He was just informed she was cheating on him all along with her high school sweetheart. He should be devastated.

Instead, he felt damn good. Why was that? He brought his sizeable freckled hand up and ran it through his hair, noticing the slight crinkle of the tickets in his jacket pocket.

His clothes were packed at home. He had a ticket and a reservation, all paid for, in a tropical paradise. Why not go alone?

Yeah, Jim Frayne would be on that plane tomorrow. Alone, yes. Lonely… that remained to be discovered.

xxxxxx

**Sleepyside, New York…**

There was a murmur through the crowd as the bride made her way to the altar. In the back of the church, the attendants, friends, and family crowded in, watching her give the performance of a lifetime.

Trixie turned to face everyone's questioning face. Man, this was gonna light up the town gossip mill for quite some time. She swallowed and began to speak.

"Hello, everyone, and thank you for coming. Um, plans have been slightly altered. Ah, Tad informed me that he has had a change of heart regarding our nuptials."

This elicited a gasp from the congregation and some not-so-nice comments sotto voce.

"Now, I don't want you all to hate Tad or feel sorry for me. It's better he made this decision now than to enter a marriage that is doomed to failure. I fully support his reason for cancelling, if I can't approve of the method. Meanwhile, we have a great party planned at The Glen Road Inn, with loads of delicious food and a spectacular DJ. So, we're not having a wedding, but a… a… Happy to Escape Party. I hope to see you all there."

With that, she held her head high and escaped into the vestry. Once there, she inhaled – a little shaken, her emotions a little stirred. Honey came rushing back, concern written on her pretty face.

"What's next?"

"Help me out of this gown, Honey, and then we'll go party. After that, hell, I've got a plane ticket to St. Martin and a couple of weeks where I can relax on the beach. By the time I get, back, all this will have died down." Trixie wrinkled her pert nose and grinned. "I'm sure that Old Brom and Mike will get into it again about politics and the real size of quarter pounders on Mike's menu."

Honey grinned back, even if her heart ached for Trixie. "Yeah, I suppose so. I'll peek out and make sure the coast is clear. And then we'll party like it's 1999."

xxxxxxx

**St. Maarten/St Martin…**

The approach to Princess Juliana Airport on the Dutch side of the island was often fraught with excitement and fear. Jets must come in low over a beach, landing gear visible to the sunbathers below.

Some of them barely cleared the fence surrounding the field.

None of that was on Trixie's mind as she stared out of the window of her plane, enjoying the sight of the clear turquoise water and white sand beaches.

The international airport was located on the Dutch side of the island. The employees were experienced at getting travelers out of customs and to their destinations as quickly as possible. After all, the more relaxed the traveler, the more he or she might spend in the bifurcated island.

Trixie picked up her bag and scanned the exit for the distinctive pink minivan with Grand Case Beach Hotel written on it in golden letters. Grand Case was a small town on the French side, and the hotel was right on the beach.

It wasn't the most luxurious resort on the island, nor the one with the most prominent beach or most amenities. It was serene, small, and just right for people who didn't require constant excitement.

Perfect for a couple on their honeymoon.

Or a woman with a lot of thinking and planning to do.

A tall man by the exit held up a sign…Trixie and Tad. She approached him and saw he was wearing a pink logo shirt from the hotel, and a wide, welcoming grin. "Miss Trixie?" The embroidered name tag said, Pierre. "Will Mr. Tad be coming? Welcome to St. Martin!" Pierre craned his neck to see if any of the gentlemen that disembarked from the flight were headed their way.

Trixie smiled back. "Only me today." She didn't proffer an explanation, and Pierre didn't press. He was aware of the sadness lurking under the surface of little miss's exquisite blue eyes. He tossed the sign in a nearby receptacle.

He reached for the handle of her rolling bag, and she relinquished it to his long, brown, fingers. "Nothing else?"

"I pack light," she smiled.

"You are going to love St. Martin," Pierre informed her as they walked to the van. "People here are friendly and caring. A lot of us don't have much, but ah! The azure sea, the fresh air… and, of course, fresh baguettes in the morning with some strong coffee."

"It's about 8 miles to Grand Case," Pierre informed her when they were on their way. "We'll pass by Marigot, the capital of the French side. It's a lovely city, plenty of shops and restaurants. Philipsburg, on the Dutch side, not so much. Yes, I am prejudiced!" he announced with some dramatic flair.

"Grand Case, the village, is a serene, beautiful little European town right here in the Caribbean. There is a little boulangerie a few blocks from the hotel. Best baguettes on the island, if you ask me. They have uh, groceries if you need anything, even some touristy things."

Trixie tried to pay attention. Part of her brain was busy analyzing the whole Tad Webster debacle. How had she not seen it? Another part of her was taking in the gorgeous scenery, the magnificent resorts… and the rusted, corrugated tin shacks that lined parts of the journey.

Trickle-down economy. Hah! Ain't happenin'.

Twenty minutes later, they were arriving at the hotel. It rose on a rocky promontory, not a colossal tower of glistening glass, but a collection of low white buildings with tiled roofs that would have looked at home in the French countryside. A restaurant jutted out on a rocky outcropping, and Trixie was sure the view of the sea would be magnificent.

She wasn't paying much attention to where she was walking, too interested in the sights, sounds, and smells of the tropical paradise when she ambled right into a human brick wall.

"Oof!" Large hands shot out to steady her as her face flamed with embarrassment. She glanced at the freckled paws and reluctantly followed the long arms up and up and up until she was looking into the face of the man she nearly plowed down.

Jim caught the lady who walked into him, glancing down at the head full of blonde curls. When she lifted her face to his, the stunning beauty of her large, singularly blue eyes made his mind go blank.

Completely blank.

"Oh, gleeps! I'm so sorry! I'm such a klutz!" The blonde's slightly husky, raspy voice brought him straight out of his reverie.

"It's okay. You didn't hurt me at all." Jim was entranced by the pink that washed across her face. A woman who blushed, in this day and age?

"Everyone always tells me to slow down and…" Trixie stared into amused, emerald green eyes. Man, it had to be fate. They said that redheads with green eyes were the rarest of the rare, yet she was surrounded by them at home.

And she flew all the way here to meet another one.

They both realized that Jim's hands were still clamped around her arms. He released her and felt the snapping of a connection. It was weird. Almost electric.

Trixie rubbed her arms, wondering if she could rub that sensation back into being. "Ah, sorry again. I need to check-in."

"I'll see you around, I'm staying here, too." Jim stuck out a hand. "Shake. My name is Jim, Jim Frayne."

"Trixie Belden. Glad to meet you."

"Let me get out of your way, Trixie Belden." He smiled, a little crooked grin, and his handsome face lit up.

"Frayne." An uncommon name. "Are you any relation to a James Frayne, formerly of Sleepyside, New York?"

"My great-uncle. I was named after him. How do you know him?" Jim's brows knitted. How could his rather ancient uncle know this beautiful blonde?

"He was our next-door neighbor." Trixie threw out a hand as if gesturing to her house, many miles away. "He lived at Ten Acres, and we live at Crabapple Farm, sharing a property line. Are your parents Winthrop and Katie Frayne? My parents met them when they came to get old Mr. Frayne. He had gotten pneumonia, you know, and was alone in that big old house." Trixie turned and began the process of signing in and giving her credit card to the front desk clerk.

"Yes, they are. It was your parents who contacted them when he was so ill. Thanks to them, he made a full recovery. He lives up in Rochester with us now."

"It's a small world," Trixie grinned but wanted to slap herself upside the head for the trite comment. Was she so out of practice, flirting with a handsome guy?

"Sure is." Jim stood there a minute, wanting to say more, but unsure of himself. Maybe her boyfriend was meeting her here, or husband. Perhaps she didn't like guys. Maybe…

"I'll see you around, Jim," Trixie called as she followed the porter to her room. She wiggled her fingers and disappeared through the door.

He grabbed his bag and meandered to his room, all the while thinking, "Dot who?"

xxxxxx

**Sleepyside… a reckoning…**

Spider Webster rubbed his eyes, sighed, and made himself another cup of espresso. As it was brewing in the Keurig, he grabbed a doughnut from the large box emblazoned with the purple logo. Di's Doughnuts. Who would have thought that wealthy Ed Lynch's daughter would open a bakery and be so successful at it?

He had to laugh at himself. Artisanal doughnuts were the thing, and cops and doughnuts… well, he heard enough of those jokes to last a lifetime. He bit into the sweet concoction and sighed. These past couple of days were not easy.

Tad certainly caused an uproar this time. Not only did he leave Trixie, one of the most popular people in town, at the altar, but _man_.

He left her for a guy.

Not that Spider had anything against that. His brother was his brother, and all he had left in this world. Tad's sexual preference had no bearing on the love Spider felt, just that, damn, Tad couldn't have figured it out earlier?

People were buzzing in the church and at the reception afterward. Trixie and Tad had been a thing all through high school and college. Wasn't that enough time to find out the truth about oneself?

Trixie Belden, not Webster now, never to be Webster, was one woman with class. She changed out of her wedding dress into a party frock, and she had a great time.

At least it appeared she had a great time, dancing and sipping champagne. Several people tried to ferret out the reason for the abrupt cancellation; however, they were shut down fast.

As Trixie said, it was Tad's responsibility to reveal.

He hoped the Beldens didn't hold it against him. Nah, they wouldn't. Peter, Brian, Mart, and Robert Belden might make Tad's body disappear somewhere inside Matt Wheeler's enormous wildlife preserve one day (and Spider wouldn't blame them).

They'd never hold Tad's cowardly exit against him.

Spider grabbed The Sleepyside Sun, happy that the hometown paper was able to pull the announcement and photos of the wedding before publication. Instead of the feature article about Sleepyside's own young adult mystery writer marrying her childhood sweetheart, there was a recipe for duplicating a Starbucks Caramel Macchiato.

Sweet.

Spider didn't hear the door open as Tad crept in. Tad stared at his brother, engrossed in the news. His face was drawn, with deep, dark circles under sad eyes.

I did that to him. Who knows how Trixie is now? He was about to turn tail when Spider glanced up.

Spider didn't startle, didn't jump out of his chair to punch him. Didn't yell, scream, or pull his weapon. Instead, he said, voice weary, "Care to explain?"

xxxxxxx

**St. Martin…**

Trixie glanced around the one-bedroom loft, appreciating the tropical vibe, cleanliness of the hotel, and the expansive ocean view. There was a small but fully functional kitchen, a balcony, and a large bed, right there.

One she should have been sharing with Tad.

Somehow, it didn't really hurt. Well, maybe a little, right there in her ego. And perhaps a small piece of her heart was battered and bruised. Not the whole thing, though.

Maybe she had a lucky escape.

Trixie unpacked and jumped into the shower. An hour later, she was resplendent in a pale-yellow strappy sundress that ended well above her knees. A pair of comfy flip-flops, a massive dollop of sunscreen and a Yankees baseball cap completed her toilette. It was off to the market Pierre pointed out for some staples.

And maybe even a baguette or two.

xxxxxxx

Jim Frayne liked the ambiance of his one-bedroom loft; had he known it, right next to Trixie's. It would have been a nice getaway for Dot and him, but hey, he was lucky he got away. Snorting at his own feeble wit, he showered, changed into some khaki shorts and a green cotton t-shirt. Time to stock up the pantry here, just a little.

The universe works in mysterious ways. Two wounded birds, each in the same sanctuary, there to let the sun, surf, and sand steal in and heal them. Each stepping out of their gilded cages at the same moment; each listening to the click of the door as it shut and turning to see the other.

Each feeling the same frisson as blue met green and their synapses fired with the inevitability of it all.

xxxxxxx

**The Webster kitchen…**

Tad closed his eyes at his brother's tired tone. He grabbed a chair, turned it around, and straddled it, folding his arms over the back. He glanced around the homey kitchen, thanking the heavens for Mrs. Vanderpoel. She had taken the boys in after their parents died. Now that she moved to a retirement community, they bought and still lived in the house she made a home for them.

"Was it horrible?"

"It wasn't good."

Tad sighed, scrubbed at the thin goatee he was trying to percolate. "Everything just got so out of hand. You have to believe me, Spider, I didn't mean to hurt Trixie… or you."

"But you did. I don't understand, Tad. If you were, uh, confused, why didn't you come to me? Talk to a therapist? Talk to Trixie? Why let it go on so far that you had to humiliate the woman you supposedly loved at the altar?"

"Because I was ashamed, Spider. Dad was a cop. You're a cop. Guys with guns. How was I supposed to tell you that… that I didn't feel that way about Trixie? Or about any woman." He rubbed his eyes. "I love Trixie. As a special friend, not as a special girl." Tad paused, searching for the right words.

"I thought she could fix me. That I was broken somehow, and that she could somehow change me. Then I met… then I met a man who helped me understand something." Tad's voice grew stronger with conviction. "I'm not broken. I was born this way, God made me just the way I am. I'm not some kind of an unnatural monster."

"Where did you meet this guy?" He didn't know what to say, how to tell Tad without sounding condescending that he could have told him anything.

"Remember a couple of months ago when I was in the City for that physical therapist convention? I met him there. We ended up hanging out after a seminar and decided to go to a bar. It was a gay bar. Spider, I never felt so free to be myself. Never. It, and he, opened my eyes."

"What's this guy's name?"

"Anthony Novarski, but everyone calls him Slim. He works PT at White Plains Medical Center. We've been meeting…"

"Cheating on your fiancée. Look, Tad, I love you. Gay, straight, pansexual. I don't care if you dress up as Betty White and flip pancakes at IHOP. But what you did to Trixie was wrong. Dead wrong."

"I know. I was planning to call her and ask her to meet me. I don't think I'll be very welcome at Crabapple Farm." Tad frowned. How was he going to smooth all this over in person?

"Tad, if you even think about going over to the Farm right now, I'm very sure that the Beldens have a six-foot trench in the preserve waiting for you. Besides, Trixie isn't there. She went to St. Martin. By herself." Spider sighed, reaching for his cup to take another sip, and was surprised to find it empty.

"Trixie handled the whole mess with dignity and grace. The reception wasn't cancelled. She just changed into another outfit, and we partied through the night. When people asked her about you, she just said it was your story to tell and left it at that."

Tad covered his face with his hands. "I've really made a mess of everything, haven't I?"

Spider didn't mince words. "Yeah. You did."

xxxxxxx

**St. Martin…**

"It seems as if we are neighbors," Trixie chirped and immediately blushed. How inane!

"Yes." And I can't believe my luck. Jim was struck by the sunshine she radiated in her pretty frock, her gorgeous faced topped by those golden curls and… a Yankee baseball cap.

He flicked the brim, a little cheeky. "I'm a Mets fan, myself."

Trixie rolled her eyes. _"Seriously?" _

"Seriously. Where are you headed?" Jim grinned at her, that lopsided, heart-melting flashing of teeth, and boy, her knees nearly buckled.

"Pierre – the driver for the hotel – showed me a little store on the way here. I'm going to walk there to pick up a few items to have on hand."

"I rented a car. Would you like a ride there?"

"No, thank you. I'd like to walk, get a feel for this place and maybe even talk to a few locals. That's the fun of going to new places, isn't it?"

"Want some company?" This little bit couldn't be more different from Dot, who would want to be chauffeured from the bedroom to the bathroom if it were possible. "I want to pick up a few items, myself."

Trixie eyed Jim's fair complexion. "I hope you have slathered on SPF 999," she quipped.

"Even better. They just came out with SPF 1000," he shot right back.

The two budding friends took a slow walk to the boulangerie, both stocking up on sweet cream, crusty bread, and a few other items. Jeanette, the proprietress, helped them navigate the store and assisted with the purchases. "Grand Case Hotel, it is a good place. You will be happy there, and your life together will be blessed."

"Uh, merci," Trixie stammered, her sunny smile faltering. Jeanette mistook them as a honeymooning couple, causing a pang.

Jim noticed the sad look flash briefly in those fantastic eyes. _There's a story there. I wonder what it is, and if she'll tell me._

xxxxxxx

Trixie wasn't as animated as they made their way back to the hotel. Whatever happened back there was weighing her down. He didn't want to pry (Oh, yes, you do!), so he started talking about himself. Maybe she would open up to him.

"I was supposed to be here with my girlfriend… well, ex-girlfriend. I planned this trip as a surprise. I was the one surprised, though. Her boyfriend met me out in the parking lot of the restaurant where I was going to present her with the tickets."

"Her boyfriend? I thought you were her boyfriend."

Jim laughed. "I thought so, too. She had been seeing her old high-school flame behind my back every time she went home for a visit. Which was quite a lot in the past couple of months."

Trixie stopped, placed her hand on his arm, and looked up into his face. She couldn't see his eyes through his dark sunglasses and hers, but her voice was sincere and soft. "I'm so sorry, Jim. How awful for you!"

He grinned down at her, a self-deprecating smile. "Yeah, for a few minutes I was speechless. I think my heart got a small dent, but the overwhelming feeling was relief. Relief! I wished him well, and I'm sure my ex was upset because he broke the news to her in the restaurant that I left. She missed being able to create a dramatic scene." Her gentle touch on his forearm made sparkles traverse his spine.

Trixie glanced down at the ground, decided, and spoke. He revealed a piece of himself, and what could she do but reciprocate?

"I was supposed to be here on my honeymoon. The groom had other ideas."

Jim's jaw dropped. "What?"

"He didn't show up at the church. So, there I was, all dressed up in my wedding attire, the bridesmaids, groomsmen, and the congregation waiting, and he was a no show. I did get a letter," she said dryly.

"What the HELL!" Jim exploded. "That's a terrible thing to do. I hope he had a good excuse, like death."

Trixie laughed, her genuine amusement warming Jim's soul. "Not quite. I've known him forever, and we just sort of fell into this relationship. Like you, I felt a sort of relief. I won't say the day, and the reception, were the best time in my life, but at least we didn't get married and have kids or anything."

"I hope this jerk at least gave you a good reason why he bailed." Trixie's hand remained on his arm, warmth spreading out from that light touch.

"He did, but not one I am at liberty to disclose. That has to be his story." Trixie realized she was still touching Jim and removed her hand.

They both felt the immediate disconnect.

"You went to the reception?"

"Yeah, I figured all our friends and family were there, we had tons of food, a fab DJ and why the hell not celebrate a… a great escape." She grinned, impish.

Jim grinned back, leaned down and whispered, "I stopped on my way home and ate a huge, sloppy, delicious hot fudge sundae."

They walked along in silence, not needing to speak, letting the warm sun wash over them and allow the light to permeate their beings, dissolving the little bits of lingering sadness.

When they reached her door, Jim decided to go for it. "Would you like to have dinner tonight at the restaurant here? I sure can use the company. Just friendly," he hastened to add.

"That would be nice. About sevenish?"

"Definitely. See you then." He felt like skipping the few feet to his door.

Trixie closed the door and leaned against it. That redhead was _lethal. _

_xxxxx_

**Sleepyside, New York…**

"Tell us more, Grandma! There has to be more to the story!" McKenzie and Brooklyn, the fifteen-year-old twins of their eldest grandson, begged them for more of the tale. They knew it by heart, but they – and the rest of the cousins sitting around their grandmother – never tired of hearing it.

Jim leaned against the doorway and smiled at his wife in her Yankees t-shirt while he was in his Mets one. To the outside world, they looked like an elderly couple, with fine lines around their eyes. Jim's red hair faded a little, but he was as tall and handsome as when she first met him.

Trixie's golden curls were mixed with white, but her blue eyes twinkled up at him. Her arthritis was acting up today, so she sat with her grands at her feet. "Off with you all! Go do something productive!"

Jim came into the room, easing himself down on the couch next to her, his bones groaning a little with the effort. "You sure you're not going to complete the fairy tale, Grandma?" he teased.

She rolled her eyes, her thin fingers seeking his larger hand. Both wrinkled, to be sure, but his just as strong and sure as when they caught her down there in St. Martin, so long ago.

"Short version. The guy married the gal and they lived happily ever after. Because when life hands you lemons…"

A chorus of young voices filled the air.

"You make lemonade!"

"The sweetest kind," Jim said softly, pulling her to him and kissing her, much to the enchantment of their young audience.

"The absolute sweetest," Trixie murmured against his lips. "The absolute sweetest."


End file.
